


pranks and punishment

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Gets Pranked, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean Pranks Castiel, Established Relationship, M/M, Payback, Post-Season/Series 10, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: In the month and a half since Cas had officially moved into the Bunker, strange things had been happening.First it had been food dye on his toothbrush. Then it was balloons in his pillowcase. Then it was the sink spraying him with whatever.When Sam informs him that Dean has launched a prank war, the angel decides to get some payback.





	pranks and punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marauders-mess](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=marauders-mess).



> For the prompt: Destiel + pranks
> 
> So, this was pretty fun to write. Especially, Dean's POV because I get to throw as much cursing in there as I want. And because I'm super unoriginal, I Googled all of these pranks and just picked out some of the more harmless ones.

In the month and a half since Cas had officially moved into the Bunker, strange things had been happening.

After the Darkness had decided to leave peacefully, God in tow, Cas had decided to stay in the Bunker with Sam and Dean. It was partially because he had nowhere else to go, the other angels in Heaven still refusing to accept him back into the fold, and partially because the Bunker felt more like home than Heaven ever had.

He had been given room fifteen and free reign to rearrange furniture whichever way he wished, whether it be moving around the bed or adding more bookshelves. He had opted against any changes, content with having a room of his own for the first time in his life.

He had quickly adapted to life with Sam and Dean, assisting them with various translations of dead languages and other forms of research in general. He never failed to accompany them on even the most routine of hunts, either, helping with tracking creatures and healing any injuries the brothers sustained.

In the mornings, he went for runs with Sam who showed him around Lebanon and invited him to attend a yoga class with him at a local gym. In the evenings, he volunteered to help Dean make dinner, usually getting relegated to simple tasks like peeling potatoes.

When they didn't have a case, Cas spent most of his days wandering through the Bunker to get better acquainted with its many rooms. On occasion, he would spend hours in the library, perusing through dozens of ancient tomes and the more contemporary novels that both Charlie and Claire had recommended him.

Other times, he simply lingered in his room, delighting in the wonderfulness that was sleep, cocooned in warm sheets and thick blankets. After billions of years of consciousness, sleep was a welcome recourse from the stresses of life, one that he relished with gusto.

Life at the Bunker was, for a lack of better words, heavenly. From eating dinner every night with Sam and Dean to meeting Jody and Alex when they accompanied Claire for a visit to Netflix marathons with all of them squished together on the couch as they argued over what to watch.

Yet a month into his stay, very odd things had begun to happen.

One morning, when he went to brush his teeth, a hygienic routine that Dean had taught him after explaining how awful morning breath was, he found that his teeth had turned blue after using his toothbrush. After inspecting his toothbrush, he found that some sort of blue fluid had been poured over the bristles of the brush, staining them.

He'd had to throw out his toothbrush and rummage around in two different supply closets for a new one. It had taken three more times of brushing his teeth to get rid of the blue tinge on his enamel.

A couple days later, he had retired to his room for a quick afternoon nap after going grocery shopping with Sam, having to drive a couple towns over just to pick up a few essentials like bread and beer, intent on sleeping for an hour or two. But when he plopped down in bed, stretching his legs and yawning, he was startled by a loud pop that sounded the second he laid his head on his pillow.

He had jolted upright on his bed, twisting to look at his pillow that looked oddly deflated. It appeared that the pillow itself had been removed from the case to be replaced with balloons, Cas sighing as he pulled the tattered pieces of multicolored latex out of the pillow case.

The next morning, Cas had woken up much earlier than he would have liked, unable to get a good night's sleep after the incident with the balloons. He had dragged himself to the kitchen in the hopes that Sam or Dean had already made a pot of coffee. They hadn't.

Grumbling under his breath, he had crossed the room to grab the coffee pot, rounding back to the sink to fill it. But when he turned on the tap, he was blasted with a spray of cold water on his chest, soaking through his borrowed t-shirt.

Muttering curses, he had fumbled to turn the sink off while trying not to drop the coffee pot. After he managed to shut off the water, he had inspected the sink, finding that someone had wrapped a rubber band around the trigger of the sprayer.

It was after that incident that he finally sought out some advice.

Sam was eating breakfast when Cas found him in the War Room, a bowl of cereal in front of him as he read the local newspaper that was full of articles about the upcoming craft fair and various other events in the area. Without preamble, Cas sat down across from him and asked, "May I talk to you for a moment, Sam?"

Sam looked at him over the top of his newspaper, pausing in the middle of raising a spoonful of Special K to his mouth. Setting down the paper and his spoon, he nodded, agreeing, "Yeah, sure, Cas."

"Have you noticed any strange occurrences lately?" Cas questioned. He folded his hands on the table the way he had seen Sam do several times. "Because I've been experiencing some strange phenomena in the past week."

"Phenomena? What, like a ghost?" Sam asked in turn, frowning as his forehead wrinkled. He leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

Cas shook his head. If it was something spectral, he would have already known, lost souls detectable to angels. Sighing, he murmured, "No, I don't think so."

"Well, what's been going on?" Sam pressed, his eyes straying to the large wet spot on the front of Cas' shirt. He met Cas' eyes again with a raised brow, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Cas succinctly explained his weird experiences from the dye on his toothbrush to the balloons in his pillow case to the incident in the kitchen. By the time he was done, Sam had a knowing grin plastered on his face as he laughed, shaking his head.

"Dude, it's Dean," Sam claimed. At Cas' thoroughly confused expression, he elaborated, "He's pranking you. Y'know, practical jokes?"

Cas frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he wracked his brain for the definition of a prank. He finally did when he recalled a conversation between Sam and Dean concerning their last 'prank war', nodding to himself as applied the context to his experiences.

"Why is Dean pranking me?" He wondered aloud, looking to Sam in hopes that he had the answer. He had done nothing to deserve Dean's ire. Nothing he could recall, at least. "Have I done something wrong?"

"What? No," Sam rushed to assure him, shaking his head fervently enough that his hair waved back and forth. "No, it's uh... It's a sign of affection."

"Oh..." Cas mumbled, nodding to himself as he squinted down at the table, visually tracing the outline of southern Africa. He wondered if the pranks were going to continue.

Before he could ask, Sam smirked widely and offered, "Want me to help you get him back?"

* * *

"Who the hell put my car keys in jello?!" Dean roared as he stormed into the War Room, slamming down the plate of bright red jello that he had found in the fridge. The gelatinous blob jiggled, his car keys floating in the center, the outline of them mocking him.

He had just been looking for an afternoon snack when he had found the red jello, at first overlooking it completely. Until he noticed that there was a familiar shape suspended in the jello, immediately recognizing it as the keys to his baby.

And that wasn't even the worst of it.

A few days prior, he had returned to his room after breakfast only to jump three feet in the air when he heard the jarring blare of an air horn. He had glanced around, trying to find the source of the noise, until he found an air horn duct taped to the wall behind his door, the knob hitting the trigger when he opened the door.

The day after that, he was getting ready in his room, applying some deodorant when he abruptly caught a whiff of something that he definitely shouldn't be smelling in his bedroom: cream cheese. With a groan, he had checked his tube of deodorant, confirming that it had indeed been replaced with cream cheese. Cream cheese that he had just smeared under his arms.

He had stomped off to the bathroom for a shower, intent on scrubbing his armpits clean before kicking his little brother's ass. Grabbing the bar of soap, he had quickly scrubbed his pits, only to find that the damn soap wouldn't lather. With another groan, he had curiously sniffed the bar of soap, detecting the scent of nail polish immediately.

And now his brother was fucking with his car keys. Not okay. Not at all. That was going way too far.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, his voice echoing through the Bunker, Cas wincing in his seat at the table. Picking up the plate of jello, Dean called again, "Sam! Where the hell are you?!"

"I'm in the garage!" Sam's voice was faint and far away as he responded. His answer made Dean's blood run cold.

The garage? That was where he kept his baby. If Sam had already fucked with the keys to the Impala, what was stopping him from fucking with the car itself?

"If you touch my car, I'll rip your fucking nuts off!" Dean practically roared as he ran through the Bunker to the garage. He barely noticed that Cas followed him.

He dropped the plate of jello the second he saw his car, the plate shattering while the blob of jello retained its shape, jiggling mockingly. He didn't even care at that point, his eyes fixed on his car as his jaw dropped.

Because his car was pink. His  _ baby, _ the car he had considered his home for the past thirty plus years, was bright pink.

Sam was doubled over laughing, a hand clamped over his mouth as his shoulders shook. Dean had never wanted to kick his ass so much.

"What the fuck did you do to my car?!" Dean demanded, rounding on his brother, his lip curled up in a vicious snarl. If anything, it just made Sam laugh harder. Oh Chuck, he was really asking for it.

Dean stalked closer to his brother, balling his hand up into a fist so he could knock the living daylights out of him. Show him why messing with a man's car was a death sentence.

Before he could sock Sam in the jaw for having the nerve, the audacity, the  _ balls  _ to fuck with his precious baby, Cas spoke. His voice even, he announced, "Sam wasn't the one who repainted your car."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean hissed, turning on his heel to glare at Cas instead. Shouldn't Cas be on his side? What the hell! Throwing up his hands, he implored, "Then who did, Sherlock?"

"I did," Cas said, infuriatingly calm as he unflinchingly met Dean's eyes. Dean was the furthest thing from calm.

He dropped his arms, gaping at Cas with eyes as wide as the pastel pink Impala's rims. He was aghast, blinking rapidly as he tried to decipher just why exactly Cas would do such a horrible thing. Then it clicked.

"Is this payback for me pranking  you?!" Dean practically whimpered. Cas just nodded. "C'mon, man! You don't mess with a man's car! That's just wrong!"

He turned to his car, feeling another whine bubble up and out of his throat at the mere sight of the pink paint job. Cas was supposed to be his best friend, damn it!

Then, before his very eyes, the pink vanished to reveal his baby in all her glory, black paint glistening under the lights in the garage. The sound of someone snapping their fingers echoed throughout the room.

He whipped his head around to look at Cas whose hand was still raised, fingers poised to snap. The angel was smirking, the corner of his lips quirked up in blatant amusement.

"You..." Dean began. "You asshole!"

He pointed an accusatory finger at Cas' chest as he stepped closer, feeling beyond scandalized. He would expect this kind of angelic fuckery from Gabriel, not Cas.

Cas met him halfway, leaning in to peck Dean on his slack lips, ignoring the fact his kiss wasn't reciprocated. Smiling as Sam continued to laugh his ass off, Cas beamed at Dean and informed him, "Prank me again and I'll make it permanent—" he paused, then added, "—babe."

Without another word, Cas turned and walked out of the garage, the sound of his footsteps fading after a moment. Dean was left to gawk at his boyfriend's retreating form, feeling both ecstatic and terrified, wondering if that was what being in love felt like.

**Author's Note:**

> You can visit me on tumblr [here](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/) maybe send me a prompt or two!


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